A Subpar Adventure
Searing light surrounds me. My flesh seems to churn over my body, falling into place only to be reformed again. I feel no pain associated with this transformation, the memories flooding my mind barely allowing me to remains conscious of what is happening to my physical body. A thousand lifetimes worth of thoughts scream through my consciousness, each as indistinguishable as the last. It seems to last forever, but how much time has really passed I cannot tell. The experience leaves me in a glade, sunlight piercing through the scattered trees, cascading across the stone formations that lie around me. —-The rebirth of Kharun. 1479 DR.
Kharuns life in Faerun began like that of all his past lives. Reborn at a small temple in a forest glade, he was overrun with memories of his past lifetimes. Although he has no specific memory of this glade in particular, he feels at home here. The glade contained 3 stone circles, each smaller than the next, built atop each other. The top circle is the one that he found himself lying on when he was reborn. Upon awaking Kharun exhibited the typical markings of a Deva. His body is a deep blue color with a strong white marking running around his midsection like a belt. Other smaller white and light blue markings swirl along his shoulders and scalp. In addition to the stone circles there was a small stone altar, with a carving of a sun emblazoned upon the front. Seeing the sun emblem brought emotions welling up from with Kharun, and he knew it was the symbol of his God. Upon inspection of the altar, Kharun found a silk robe and leather sandals stowed undernearth the backside. Someone had expected his awakening. It was time to find out who this may have been.
After a short journey through the woods Kharun fell upon a path and followed it to a nearby village. The as of yet unnamed Deva entered town with no knowledge of where he was. As he walked among the houses, a child screamed “Kharun” and ran inside the house. The mother soon walked out the door holding the child, apologizing for any insult the child may have caused. The child had mistaken the skin coloration and markings for that of an ogre magi from a fairy tale used to frighten children into bed at night. The Deva thought about it momentarily, before decided to take the name as his own for this life. Some more conversation with the townfolk led Kharun to the local priest. Falgar, as it turns out, was a priest of Lathandar as Kharun had expected. There was no temple in town per say, but Falgar had a small shrine set up inside his house. Falgar invited Kharun to stay the night and explained the situation.
It was infact Falgar that had provided the simple clothing. The MorningLord had come to Falgar in a dream, instructing him to prepare the shrine for the birth of his servent. For the same reason, Falgar had gone about collecting some adventuring equipment as the dream also revealed to him that this servent would not be one of the cloth, but one of the blade. And it was with this that Falgar presented Kharun with Nightbane, a fullblade of awesome power. Falgar had acquired the blade many years ago as part of a “business” transcation. Normally a priest would have no need for such an instrument, but something inside Falgar had told him that one day he would need the weapon. Within the matter of a day, Kharun had quickly reclaimed much of his past lives. He was a righteous weapon of Amaunator, trained in the deadly art of the fullblade. Just one question remained . . . what was his first charge?
From that point Kharun spent many days in meditation. It was during this that Amaunator spoke to Kharun and provided him with his first task. With only an incling of direction, Kharon knew he had to head back to the site of his rebirth. With Falgar in chase, the two made the journy back to the shrine. It was late in the evening when they made their final approach. Moving cautiously through the brush under the low light, as no clear path existed to the long abonded shrine, Kharun could tell something was amiss. As they moved closer, it became apparent what was happening. A tiefling, short in stature with horns protruding from under his short hood, seemed to be involved some kind of demonic ritual! The shrine that Kharun had been born at just a few weeks earlier had been desecrated, corpses from a sacrifice lay strewn around and hideous symbols were spattered in blood on the trees and stone.
As the two burst into the clearing, Kharun with sword at the ready and Falgar clutching the holy symbol of his god the warlock spun around. Without a moment of pause his hands spun and eldritch poured fourth from them, searing a hole into the ground as Kharun and Falgar stepped aside. Kharun made ready his weapon to strike and moved on the warlock. Before he could make it into striking range, the warlock let fly with a fiery burst of arcane energy. The blast knocked Kharun to the ground, dazing him for a moment. This moment was all the warlock needed. Seeing that his summoning could not be completed in the face of capable foes he made his escape into the woods. When Kharun came back to his senses, he gave chase to the warlock. Running into the woods after him, he quickly realized that in the low light conditions he had no chance of catching the crafty tiefling. Alas, he gave up his pursuit and headed back to the shrine. When he arrived, he found Falgar lying on the ground, badly burned and unconscious. He had not been so lucky as to only be grazed by the fiery blast. With Falgar slung over his shoulder Kharun began the jounrey back to town to see medical attention for Falgar. He now knew what his first task was . .